"I didn't know, but thought it likely," Jake replied with some dryness. "On the whole, it was perhaps the best thing he could do. What's your opinion, Don Sebastian?" The Spaniard smiled. "I think the President will be satisfied that it was the simplest way out of the difficulty." "Well," said Jake, "here are your letters, Dick. Perhaps we had better see about getting ashore." They moved towards the gangway, past the hatch where some heavy cases were being hoisted up, and Dick carefully put the letters in his pocket. This distracted his attention from what was going on, and when he heard a warning shout he stepped back a moment too late. A big case swung forward beneath a derrick-boom and struck his shoulder. Staggering with the blow, he lost his balance and plunged down the hatch. He was conscious of a heavy shock, a sudden, stinging pain, and then remembered nothing more. CHAPTER XXXI RICHTER'S MESSAGE It was a hot evening and Clare sat at a table in the patio, trying to read. The light was bad, for buzzing insects hovered about the lamp, but the house had not cooled down yet and she wanted to distract her troubled thoughts. Footsteps and voices rose from the street outside, where the citizens were passing on their way to the plaza, but the sounds were faint and muffled by the high walls. The house had been built in times when women were jealously guarded and a dwelling was something of a fort. Now, with the iron gate in the narrow, arched entrance barred, the girl was securely cut off from the exotic life of the city. This isolation was sometimes a comfort, but it sometimes jarred. Clare was young, and fond of cheerful society, and the iron gate had its counterpart in another barrier, invisible but strong, that shut her out from much she would have enjoyed. She often stood, so to speak, gazing wistfully between the bars at innocent pleasures in which she could not join. Kenwardine, in spite of his polished manners, was tactfully avoided by English and Americans of the better class, and their wives and daughters openly showed their disapproval. At length Clare gave up the attempt to read. She felt lonely and depressed. Nobody had been to the house since Kenwardine left, and Dick and Jake were away. She did not see Dick often and he was, of course, nothing to her; for one thing, he was in some mysterious way her father's enemy. Still, she missed him; he was honest, and perhaps, if things had been different---- Then she turned her head sharply as she heard the click of a bolt. This was strange, because Lucille had locked the gate. She could not see it in the gloom of the arch, but it had certainly opened. Then as she waited with somewhat excited curiosity a dark figure appeared on the edge of the light, and she put down her book as Richter came forward. He made very little noise and stopped near the table. "How did you get in?" she asked. Richter smiled. "You have forgotten that Herr Kenwardine gave me a key."